


delight

by meowcosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Baking, Birthday Sex, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, Married Couple, Modern Era, Oral Sex, Teasing, Vibrators, domestic fluff and smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24104647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowcosm/pseuds/meowcosm
Summary: Mercedes switches up her and Annette's birthday routine a little.A special little gift helps.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	delight

**Author's Note:**

> hi i fucking love this pairing
> 
> happy birthday annette you deserve to get your pussy ate 24/7 365 days of the year

Sometimes, if not often, Annette waited. 

In line, for the release of some new song, or for someone to come home; it did not come naturally, and drew heavily upon her limited reserves of patience. Haste, her mother had commented many years ago, was her modus operandi, regardless of its impact on an outcome. Indeed, Annette found it a difficult task to put her finger on any occasion where she had enjoyed a wait, particularly when it came to the things she loved. 

In the same sense, against her greater nature, Mercedes indulged. Infrequently, and with some hesitance; her lifestyle was hardly ascetic, but it was one of provision, of taking what was sufficient and being thankful for it. Yet, some days, there would be an excess of discounted cream cakes at the store, or time on a summer’s afternoon for an hours-long bath, and these things would be all the better for their scarcity. 

Above all else, however, her greatest indulgence was Annette. Annette, who kissed as hurried as the wind magic beneath her fingers, warm as the hearth flickering in the home they shared on the outskirts of Fhirdiad. Imbued with the same chaos, too, all of the song and mess of the space they shared in the way Annette’s hands could never find rest on Mercedes’ body when they held each other, exploring each part of her as if her form might become nothing but a cloud, poised to dissipate. Her lover, who approached each day with her like a human to air, as welcomed and enthusiastic as a person could be. 

Mercedes’ second greatest indulgence, then, was having Annette where she wanted her. Not that Annette would not follow her command- Mercedes had never doubted that, not for a second. But with such boundless enthusiasm came clumsiness, an indelicacy, ill-suited to the trickling, even flow of Mercedes’ life. And though it was hardly as if Mercedes would have her work against her nature- it was something she admired, more than anything- there was a certain pleasure to having Annette wait. To pause, if only briefly, and give herself over to Mercedes. 

On the fourth of Annette’s birthdays they’d spent together, married, Mercedes kept her waiting. Each year prior, Mercedes had been the one to make her her birthday cake, the one who quarried all of their friends into the small home and prevented, to the best of her abilities, them from killing each other. She’d woken up early, allowing Annette to wake up late, with all of the baked goods she’d planned to prepare already in the oven. This year, however- though Mercedes had still departed the bed early, she’d woken Annette up in tandem, leaving her only minutes afterwards- but not before she’d slipped a peach-pink box onto the nightstand next to her, wrapped neatly in ribbon but bearing no inscription otherwise. Had whispered, gently, into the shell of her ear, instructions for her- to open the box, and use her quick, impatient wit to figure out the purpose of the object inside. As soon as she was sure that Annette had understood, she’d left, nightgown tied and rabbit slippers snug over her feet, preparing to combine various batters and icings in the formidable collection of bowls they’d accumulated over the years. 

It was a soft buzz emanating from the top floor, roughly twenty minutes later, that told Mercedes that her plan had, at least in its first stage, gone ahead. The soft, pitchy whine which followed it signified a similar success, though it was a victory Mercedes had relatively little time to focus on- chocolate tempering required a lot of focus, even with Annette’s voice as captivating as any birdsong, and her stubbornness clearly provoking a great deal of unassisted experimentation with the little device Mercedes had selected.

  
  


-

Only when the first sponge of Annette’s birthday cake had been deployed into the oven did Mercedes see it fit to head upstairs again, butter-stained apron discarded and replaced with a plush sleep shirt which Annette had purchased for her on her own birthday months prior. Her footsteps on the stairs kept deliberately light, concealing her presence, she nonetheless announced her arrival at the wooden-frame door with a gentle knock. It was an unnecessary formality, what with the two of them having shared the room for the past two years, their relationship notwithstanding- still, Mercedes could not help the instinct to play polite, if for no other reason than to further tease the still-untouched Annette. 

“Mercie?” If Mercedes hadn’t been used to the nickname of hers, she would have suspected it a cry for relief- after all, she was almost certain that Annette had brought the tool upon herself quite heavily, enthusiastic and curious. Particularly when the sound of vibrations was audible from behind the door, albeit couched by something (which Mercedes suspected she could quite reliably predict). 

“Do you mind if I come in?” Again, Mercedes was fairly sure that the question posed no real significance- it was their marital bedroom, after all. Still, there was an unceasing excitement in such tame provocation. 

“P-please.” Annette’s voice was sparse, shaking, almost trembling. With something close to pity, but still more recognizable as excitement, Mercedes eased the doorknob to the side and pushed the door inwards, spilling window-borne light into the corridor. Immediately, she was drawn to the sight in front of her- Annette, all clothing doffed to the other side of the bed in obvious hurry, legs spread and knees pointed upwards- but the tender inside folds of her pussy obscured by the presence of the device once held in the now-open box. Her thighs, still bearing the little bruises of love-bites Mercedes had lavished her with the previous night, parted and, quite frankly,  _ resplendent _ in the morning sunshine. 

Mercedes couldn’t help the warm grin spreading out on her face at the sight of what was laid out in front of her. 

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Annie.”

“H-hah.” Annette pressed her finger down onto the button of the remote which controlled the device, bringing it to a stop. Jolted by her relief, she sunk backwards onto the pillows behind her, embracing the sudden comfort. “Yeah, Mercie. I miss you, though.” 

“Oh, Annie. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long this morning- I’ve simply had a lot to do.”

“T-thank you, Mercie. For doing that. B-but can’t you-”

Mercedes shook her head, calm and even. “I’m afraid not, Annie. I’ve had such a wonderful idea for your birthday cake, but it requires a lot of involvement on my part. Later, though.” A gentle sigh passed Mercedes’ lips. “I promise you, my Annie.”

Annette’s face was framed with a pout, wet lips pursed and beckoning Mercedes forward. Still, Mercedes turned her head downwards and gave a short shake of her head. 

“Oh, you know I can hardly resist that look. Still, I was hoping that you’d be content without me for a while. What with that gift I have for you.”

A small, rounded object, the same colour as strawberry-flesh and barely large enough to part the milky slightness of Annette’s inner thighs. Mercedes remembered selecting the switching vibe quite fondly- to find something both strong and aesthetically pleasing had been a challenge, but from the second she had sighted the small device on the rails of the small store she’d ducked into at the end of her shift, it had been nigh-impossible to remove the image of it buried between Annette’s folds from her mind. 

Annette gave a nod- still, it was one punctuated by both complaint and desire. “It’s not as good as you, Mercie.”

“I could make it more effective, if you’d like.” Mercedes took a gentle step forward, a grin on her face. Annette, too, shifted forward, looking towards Mercedes with a wanton anticipation- only to be stilled when Mercedes slipped to the side of the bed, rather than in front of her, where she remained exposed. With gentle motion, Mercedes placed her hands, newly clean from the baking, on Annette’s shoulders, sitting next to her. 

“What did you think of the presentation of the gift, Annie?” Mercedes inquired, voice low but sweet. 

“It was wonderful, Mercie.” Mercedes hadn’t doubted that Annette would appreciate it- after all, it was bound in a ribbon of her favourite colour, and wrapped neatly in a paper so delicate that it was perhaps only Mercedes who, out of the two of them, could have done so without tearing anything.

Rather, she was leading into something. 

“How did you feel about the ribbon?” Mercedes had seen it discarded next to the emptied box, still on the nightstand- Annie had kept it, likely in anticipation of Mercedes requesting its return for some craft project. Now, though, she intended it for a much different purpose. 

Annette giggled. “My favourite colour, Mercie. Thank you.” 

“Then,” Mercedes continued, “perhaps I would be able to use it on you?” 

A pregnant pause stilled the air, until Annette gasped. “...T-to tie me up?” 

“If you’d be amenable, Annie.” Mercedes swept her thumbs over Annette’s shoulder blades, soothing and gentle. “That way, you won’t feel tempted to remove it.”

“A-ah.” Annette whined. “Couldn’t you use the toy on me, Mercedes?” 

“Cake’s in the oven, Annie. And you love my desserts, right?” 

“Uh-huh.”

“So I wouldn’t want to burn it, would I?”

Annette shook her head slightly. “No.” 

“So it’s for the best that you’re up here for a while, okay?” Another finger darted over Annette’s shoulder blades, making her shudder. “And when I’m finished, I’ll come up and tend to you, in any way you want.” 

A grin spread across Annette’s face, and she giggled again. “Thanks, Mercie. Think I’d like that, actually.” 

“Want to raise your hands for me, Annie?” 

Annette nodded, and brought her hands away from the surface of the bed and into the air, allowing Mercedes to grip her wrists and gently lead her arms behind her back. With great care, she plucked the ribbon from the side table and brought it to where they sat together, wrapping it cursorily around Annette’s wrists before tying the entire affair into a tight bow. At the same time, she retrieved the remote for the vibrator from beneath Annette’s hand, and placed it squarely in her palm. 

Gently, Annette tested the constitution of the binding- finding that it did not shift when she jerked against it with the weight of her body, she gasped, then sighed. 

“Are you going to turn the vibrator on inside me, Mercie?” 

Mercedes nodded, loving and sweet. Annette’s face lit up, as if she required no further encouragement. 

“G-good. I’ll wait for you, even if it’s not easy.” 

“How lovely.” Mercedes’ voice was dreamy as she pressed the button for the lowest setting, a single whining peal working its way out of Annette’s throat as she did. “Do you remember what to say if you need me, Annie?” 

Despite her mind, and her voice, being so thoroughly occupied with the toy, Annette managed to gasp out a single word. “Cupcakes, Mercie.” 

“Wonderful. I’ll come back for you when there’s less to be tended to in the kitchen, alright?” 

Annette nodded, and Mercedes withdrew from the soft blanket covering the bed, taking to her feet, dropping the remote on the side table as she did. She smiled, pointed and loving, before slipping out of the still-open door, leaving it open in case Annette decided to take her leave. 

  
That said, from the pleased sounds emanating from above, Mercedes was rather optimistic that she would hardly be in a hurry to do so. 

-

Upon her return to the kitchen, Mercedes had found the sponge exactly where she’d wanted it to be- twenty minutes from completion, the same point at which the second, smaller cake needed to be placed in the confines of the oven. To bring the already-filled tin into the warmth was no great burden, and with the other sponge still in the process of baking, Mercedes was able to move the other ingredients onto the kitchen side, ready for the preparation of buttercream. It was a recipe she’d followed a thousand times, one she was certain she could do blindfolded. Digging a sharp knife into the large slab of butter previously wrapped in wax paper, measuring out the necessary sugar with precision into the bowl- each movement passed like rhythm, infinitely easy in its progression.

Even with Annette’s moaning in the background, her wanton cries for Mercedes’ presence, it was hard to be distracted from something that came so easily. But it was hard, too, for her to deny that there was something particularly appealing about the background noise- each little whimper was something Mercedes could imagine, so close to the many times in the past they’d made love to each other. Annette was always so excitable, and so sensitive, becoming red and flustered and wanting each time they touched, particularly if Mercedes were to cup the small roundness of her breasts in her hands, or to rub the back of her finger against Annette’s clit. Each sound she made, even without Mercedes lavishing touch on her, was so reminiscent of the time they spent together that Mercedes could feel herself becoming wet and excited underneath her underwear. Moreover, she could hardly stand to block out the noise- with her hands on the electric mixer, she hesitated. It was easier, and less strain on the arms, but it was so very loud, and with Annette singing her such a lovely song in the background, it felt like some great shame to let her efforts go to waste. 

With a wistful sigh, Mercedes pulled open the drawer containing the other baking utensils collected over the years, and pulled out a carved wooden spoon. It had been a wedding gift years ago, and though it went underused, Mercedes could hardly deny her fondness for the intricate item. If nothing else, it was at least beautiful. She brought it back to the bowel, where the sugar and butter were piled up together, and to the wonderful sound of Annette’s heated moans the ingredients were creamed together, beginning to form a sweet paste.

Even with the much more gruelling nature of the manual method, Mercedes made a mental note of how considerably a  _ soundtrack _ could improve the drudgery of just about anything.

-

With both sponges fully baked, and all decorations completed, Mercedes let out a tense sigh. Everything had gone very much to plan, but there was a great pressure involved with creating something so significant for someone who she loved so much. Moreover, her arm ached at the constant ministrations of the spoon in the bowl, such a method of preparation hardly ideal after spending the last two days of the work week mostly typing up medical files on a computer. 

Still. The sponges both had to cool, ideally for as long as possible, before they were decorated with anything heat-sensitive, and the sounds from upstairs had not ceased throughout the time Mercedes had used to prepare the decorations. If she wished for relief, she knew exactly where to find it- tied up and waiting for her, already thoroughly aroused by Mercedes’ gift. Without a second thought, Mercedes took to her feet once more, and turned towards the stairs- no longer muffling the sound of her footsteps in the pale upholstery of the steps, almost hurried in her approach. The door was still open a crack, enough that Mercedes could step into the room simply by pulling it to the side- the room where her wife sat, hands still behind her back and the little pink device still between her legs, jutting out at an angle that made it barely visible from the doorway. 

Mercedes considered herself a profoundly patient person, but to see  _ this  _ laid out in front of her challenged that better than anything else could. 

“Annette.” The name came out of Mercedes’ mouth before she could question her words, or compel herself to silence. A soft murmur, almost a whisper, but one which caught Annette’s attention, her head turning towards the source of the noise. 

“M-mercie.” The nickname made Mercedes feel soft inside, as if there was barely anything which could keep her from the space beside her wife. “Y-you’re here.”

In the way Annette spoke, Mercedes could find so easily within her the places where she ached and desired. Still, the strength of her constitution had not been entirely erased- even with the toy inside her, there was apparently little to be done about Annette’s exuberance. 

“Of course, Annie.” This time, the smile on Mercedes’ face was as coy as it was loving. With one hand in the right pocket of the sunshine-yellow garment, Mercedes tugged open the knot which held her bathrobe together, a motion which allowed the piece to hang slack on her shoulder. Exposing, slow and gentle, the nape of her neck and a teasing patch of her breast. “I can tell you’ve been waiting, hm?” 

“Annie.” Mercedes’ voice was gentle, yet firm, and punctuated with the brisk warmth of her breath on Annette’s exposed neck. At the sound of her name, Annette gasped, and attempted to shift forward, only to sink backwards once again when she was reminded of the bindings which held her wrists in place. Her legs, though, uncrossed- something which Mercedes took particular notice of. 

Annette went slack, back hitting the mattress, before pushing herself prone onto her stomach. The toy came loose inside her, without slipping out entirely, and her still-bound wrists were raised into the air. Something about the position, Mercedes noticed, was rather  _ insistent _ . Its message, too, very clear. 

“Do you need me to touch you?” Something about the question was closer to rhetoric, rather than compelling an answer. Indeed, from the way her toes curled and uncurled at the simple prospect of being touched, Annette suspected Mercedes knew very well the only possible answer to such a question. Still, Annette nodded, so fast and so shaky that her entire body nearly juddered at the force of it, as if every accumulated ache could spill out of her at any point.

“There’s no rush, Annie.” Mercedes came towards her with speed, kneeled soft at the end of their bed and tugged slightly at the bow, which still held her wrists together. Annette twitched at her proximity, and whined, muttering something under her breath as she did. Without waiting another second, Mercedes slipped her fingers between the broad, round swoops of the bow, and pulled. The fabric became loose and slack once more, falling away from Annette’s wrists like a retreating wave. As soon as they came loose, Annette brought her hands down onto the bed once more. 

“Mercie, I don’t think I’ve ever thought about running my hands through our bedsheets ever so often.” Her tone wasn’t exactly exhausted, but it was  _ relieved _ , Mercedes noticed. All the more reason, she decided, to help Annette work out the rest of the tension as best as she could. 

“It might be easier,” Mercedes began, “if you rolled onto your back again.” Her voice dripped with sugar, and endearment, so rich and fond that Annette could hardly resist following her lead. With her back at rest against the sheets, and the toy, wet with slick, discarded to the side, she laid prone underneath Mercedes, pale skin already reddened and glistening with beads of sweat. 

Birthdays, regardless of for whom or when, were always a greatly-treasured matter for Mercedes, and she spared little expense in finding the most heartfelt gift possible for any occasion. Still, with Annette laid like this in front of her, cheeks reddening and her throat full of little whimpers, she couldn’t help the feeling she’d outdone herself that year. 

True to her previous assertion, Annette took a second to caress the fabric of the sheets beneath her fingers before anything else. No sooner than when she was done, however, did she raise herself once more unto her haunches, and spread her legs wide. 

“Mercie.” Some impatience- some insistence- was already seeping into the candor of her voice. “I l-love your gift very much, but it’s not you.” 

“Of course not.” Mercedes withdrew the one arm which remained within her bathrobe, slipping it out of its sleeve, and brought her fingers, scrubbed clean with handmade floral soap, to the inside of Annette’s thigh. The rest of the cloak slipped away from her shoulders, leaving only the top of her thighs covered and exposing her breasts completely. 

In the inevitable moment Annette sat, transfixed by the sight of her wife’s chest, Mercedes darted a single finger into Annette’s folds, sending her backwards with a start. 

“Annie, you’re so beautiful when you’re sensitive.” 

“Ah, Mercie, you’re so sweet. B-but- don’t you think I’ve been teased enough?” 

“Hmmm,” Mercedes hummed, “you make a good point. You’d like me to finish you off, then?” 

Annette’s body shuddered again, this time in anticipation. “Y-yes! I mean. Please.”

Mercedes’ second forefinger crooked into Annette’s sensitivity, sending a tamer shudder down her spine. Withdrawing the two of them, then, invites a further twitch, and a whine of absence from somewhere deep in Annette’s throat. 

“M-Mercie.” Once more, if Mercedes wasn’t so used to the nickname, she’d find it hard to believe that Annette wasn’t asking for some sort of sweet salvation. 

“I won’t tease you again.” Mercedes hums briefly under her breath. “But I do want to ask- would it be amenable if I used my mouth on you?” 

Annette’s mouth opens briefly, ready to offer a resounding approval, before Mercedes continues. 

“I made my arm ache quite a lot earlier, what with all that mixing.” 

Instead of saying anything else, Annette shuts her mouth and nods.

“I’m glad, Annie. I would have used the electric mixer, but I could still hear you while I was downstairs. And you sounded beautiful, Annie.” Her other hand slips up to Annette’s hair, and shifts away a strand which has fallen over her forehead. “A wonderful singer, aren’t you.” 

Mercedes slips backwards, to the point that she’s kneeling over the end of the bed. Annette shifts forwards in time, bringing her folds close to Mercedes’ mouth- experimentally, Mercedes flicks her tongue out, as if she were tasting icing from a spoon. Only when Annette gasps does she draw back, eyes gazing upwards, full of love.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” 

Barely a second passes before Mercedes’ tongue is on Annette’s clit, swiping up and down, lavishing affection on the fleshy nub. At the friction of it, and her accumulated sensitivity, Annette lets out a pointed and desperate whine, barely able to resist the need to thrust forward and bring herself closer to Mercedes’ tongue, as darting and careful as it is with her. As Mercedes continues, her hands still prying Annette’s thighs apart, it becomes even more momentous, Annette’s mind blanking at her attempts to think of anything but the mounting pleasure between her thighs and the way her wife’s head bobs and ducks between them like a flower petal tossed by the wind. 

It’s heavenly, and Annette isn’t sure if she’s ever understood Mercedes’ faith better than she does in that moment. For such heady pleasure to exist in the world feels miraculous and sweeter than anything else known to her, especially when created by the woman she loves most in the world. 

“M-mercie-” Her voice offers up simple, half-formed cries of pleasure as Mercedes goes deeper, tongue slipping into Annette’s hole as she leans backwards in an attempt to mediate the mounting satisfaction. It’s of no use, though, and in a single, aching second, Annette’s mind goes blank, and a trail of slick slips down the inside of her thigh as the rest coats Mercedes’ mouth. Still, she doesn’t draw back, even as Annette rides out her orgasm against Mercedes’ tongue, full of passion and energy. 

It takes a minute, perhaps more- in her ecstasy, Annette isn’t quite sure how to measure time- for her to come down from the experience. Mercedes is still buried between her thighs, but her tongue hovers over her folds no longer.

“Good?” 

“Fuck, Mercie.” Annette’s voice is barely composed, ragged as it is from her orgasm. “Do you have to ask?”

“I want to know, Annie.” Mercedes coos.    
  


“Y-yes. So good, Mercie.”

Gently, Mercedes presses a slight kiss to Annette’s clit, before drawing back to retrieve tissues from the side-table drawer. Annette, fully unwound, goes back to lying slack on the bed. 

“Don’t know if I’ll be up for cake decorating this morning, Mercie.”

At that, Mercedes only giggles. “Don’t fret, Annie. It is your birthday, after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @meowcosm on twtr if you wanna see me post more lesbians
> 
> leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed!


End file.
